Mild Disappointment

You know that movie? No, that other movie---no, not THAT other movie--I mean the one with the misleading title. You know the one I'm talking about--the one with that guy. That Guy that, for some inexplicable reason, used to be married to Angelina Jolie; that guy that was Carl in Sling Blade, and who was Bad Santa---HIM! Ok, now you know the one I'm on about.......

Ok, so--any reasonable, sane adult may see the title of the movie--"The Astronaut Farmer"--and arrive at the exact same conclusion I did. That the movie is about a cool farmer that grows astronauts. I could just imagine all the cool scenes of the farmer with the new baby astronauts in their special zero-G pens, mixing up Tang(TM) to feed to them---it would have been like one of those cool educational films they showed us in school. I loved those--it was so much better than actual class work, so I got really happy when it seemed we going to be treated to a feature length "on the farm" flick.

Stupid Hollywood.......

In more interesting news- Mariana has changed the layout at Gatochy's--a nice spare white look, tres chic. Delta is braving the cold to go skiing in freezy Finland. Kurt is visiting a major American city (probably searching out new "transitional" housing), and Sebastien has posted two of the cutest monster-y drawings ever--I want them both on my jammies

A 60's Memory Redux: Ruminations on Cannibalism, or the Threat Thereof

We've had a brief chat about this, once before. Seems I didn't quite get it all the way off my chest or something.

Way back in the mid 60's, I scared the hell out of the little boy across the street.

We had a large garden that was a popular play spot for the neighborhood kids. Most of the time I had a crowd of playmates. When it was time to come in, Ma always left it to me to clear out the revelers. Being basically well behaved kids, they all pissed off home after one prompt. All except the little tyke from across the street.

He was about 2 years younger, and quite uncooperative. All attempts at persuasion were met with sullen refusal. The one and only thing that effectively removed him from our property was the threat of being "eaten all up". For fuck's sake!

Here's a transcript of a typical exchange between us:

Young Taarzaan: It's time for you to go home now. You can come back tomorrow.

BratWurst: I don't have to!

YT:Yes, you do. Everyone else is already gone.

BW: I don't care. I don't wanna.

YT: I can't go in until you go home. It's time to eat, and I'm hungry. PLEASE go home!

BW: NO!!!

YT: If you don't go home, I'm going to eat you up.........

BW: Nuh-uh......

YT: Uh-huh!

BW: No you won't.

(Young Taarzaan holds his hands up parallel to ears, fingers curved into claws. Bares teeth, and begins walking towards BratWurst, gnashing teeth and growling.)

BW: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!!

(flees in terror)

It worked, every time. I always thought he'd catch on--put two and two together, as it were. No soap. He never learned to avoid the threat of being eaten by leaving appropriately. And at his stage of cognitive development, the threat of being eaten remained effective.

There was a hitch, however. The little tater tot started having nightmares about me eating him.

So there I was, all of maybe 6 years old, having a confrontation with Mrs. BratWurst. Her position was that I had to cease and desist from all cannibalistic threats. My position was that it was the only effective lever I had for removing her spawn from my garden, and that it was incumbent upon her to instill a respect for boundaries in her tender vittle. We utterly failed to see eye-to-eye. (She was a good two feet taller than me.)

I wonder about young niblet--did he grow up doubting his place on the food chain? Or did he introject the values of the aggressor, and become an oral aggressive personality? And is he still tender and juicy looking?

Jerk-in-the-box

This nasty bit of business is called "Jerk-in-the-box". It is deliberately gender ambiguous, as it was based on several narcissistic people from both genders. It still needs the box and control rod.

Random Serendipity in the Livingroom

Random Puppetry Sculpting

This guy is going to be a creepy jack-in-the-box. After that, he may evolve into Mr. Punch. Time will tell.
In other news, I'm working on a rebus post. As though MadLibs(TM) weren't effort enough.....

What has 11 eyes, and was just sick on the capet?

Him.
Or possibly Her.
It, anyway..........................

Puppetacolypse Draws Ever Near

Bad news, world---I'm off to shop for puppet supplies today. Craft supply store, building supply store, weapons dealer--all on my "to do" list. I'm being escorted by my temporary minions (they're moving to Alaska in a couple of weeks). Once we've aquired the neccesary componants, we shall joyfully partake of sushi, or maybe even bulgogi.

(Kala, expressing her approval of puppet vengence. Shannon demonstartes the size of the puppet that attacked him)

Taarzaan as conversation topic

I just wanted to butt in here and tell everyone how often Taarzaan's name was spoken at the 2006 BEA Awards, usually fondly. He is an inspiration to many bloggers, particularly those who are struggling in obscurity (approx. 99.991%, although our sample was 100%). Everyone in Room 306 agreed that it is good to see him posting more often again, and several cried out "For he's a jolly good fellow," which led to a chorus of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."

Todd was the only one present who had met Taarzaan and photographed him in his sleep, but he would not agree to answer our many questions, so for now all we have are his blog posts and the spent toiletries he left behind at the old OPE offices.

Praise all things Taarzaan!

Random Technology Upgrade

The old keyboard is dead--long live the keyboard!

I inherited the old one from my late brother--it was new in the late 80's, I think. It did a great job up until last night, when I doused it with soy milk. That lead to my choice of a water and dust proof model. It is soft silicon rubbery material that rolls up, and can be used in sandy or swampy conditions. Goodness knows how often the IRBHN HQ is visited by sand storms and/or floods. Just last evening, I was remarking:"Gracious! It has been a while since we had any serious climactic situations here in the office!"--then I poured soy milk on the keyboard. It resulted in the loss of the letter "T", the letter "Y", and the number "5".

Sounds like Sesame Street, now that I read it back.

BEA! BEA! BEA!!!!

Hoooray! IRBHN has been blessed with its second Blog Excellence Award--this time in the category of best dollhouse building and ice storm pictures! http://blogexcellenceawards.blogspot.com/

We will be unable to attend the awards ceremony in Fort Lee, New Jersey--but we know we can count on Kurt to collect it and use it as an extortion tool next time he needs a Todd-sitter--even after that incident with the zombie puppets and everything. He's just that kinda guy. He can't help it.

Vivid Dream

I had a very vivid dream just before waking--- I was reading a magazine. It was a smallish digest sized publication. I recall that it had a mostly white cover photo, and the magazine layout was based on altered books. There was a photo section that I really liked, and the article after that was titled Who In The World is Gatochy--it was a bio of Mariana, along with reprints from her blog.

Things to come? It could happen!

Just Random

You may say "Yow! You have a burning candle in your ear! Were you bad?" Or even "Yow! That is a very strange birthday cake for Sebastien---are you trying to drive him completely mad?"

Well--"No--I was good", and "NO--that would be redundant!!"

Happy birthday Sebastien! Beware platypus' jumping out of cakes shaped like old hippie bodyworkers!